A scrawny twink of unusual height stood motionless and silent before an ominous stone door sitting quietly in the humid forests of Central Mexico.
The door, upon removing centuries of overgrown foliage, was covered in intricate designs and patterns that looked as if they were from an ancient civilization. Aztec maybe? The twink was sort of scared shitless, and also completely ecstatic at the same time. He couldn't stop looking at it. Mesmerized was the word.
"This is the place." said a solid wall of pure Mexican muscle mass to the twink. The twink snapped out of the daze and took a step back.
"Jorge... it's real! The legend was true!", exclaimed the twink.
Jorge turned and gave a smug grin. "Ha! You shouldn't doubt me Boyd! I was confident that the legend passed down my family was true!", Jorge replied.
Both of them stood there before the massive door for a few seconds longer, taking it all in.
"Now... how exactly do we get into the ruins?", Boyd said questioning Jorge. "It's locked by a blood spell.", Jorge said pointing towards an altar with a small basin.
"According to the family legend, only the one from the 'sacred bloodline' can open the door."
John hesitated. "Well fuck!", Boyd said. "How're we gonna open it now!?"
Jorge's usual merry attitude vanished without a trace. His expression turned to stone-faced sternness.
"John Boyd... there's a reason I brought you here with me... there's one thing I've been failing to tell you Boyd..."
"Huh? What?", Boyd said with confusion.
"John Boyd. Look at your shoulder.", Jorge commanded.
"Dude, why? The fuck are you talking about? How is this relevant to the door we found?", Boyd said, questioning Jorge.
"John Boyd, I'm sure that your blood might work. That birthmark on your shoulder... I'm sure your blood will break the seal!"
"Nani!?", shouted Boyd in shock. "How on Earth did you get that idea? Me? I'm not from any sort of 'sacred bloodline'! I'm just from a family of backwater rednecks!"
Jorge stood there and looked John in the eyes. "John. Let me tell you the legend of the Joestars."
"John, it was wrong of me to keep this secret from you, but we've gotten this far. I know you've got the balls to take it.", Jorge said.
"There once was a noble family that fought a powerful evil, long ago before any of us were born."
"The name of that family... was the Joestars."
"Nobody knew why the fates of the Joestars were always so cruel. Some said it was a curse placed on them long, long ago. Others say they were the descendants of Jesus Christ... silly right? Two things about that family were consistent facts however; they always found themselves in bizarre circumstances, and they have star shaped birthmarks on their shoulders."
"Look John. Have you ever noticed that birthmark?", Jorge said pointing at the birthmark, peeking slightly from his shirt.
"Shiiiit really?", John said, "Fuck I always thought that was cancer or something, god damn."
"So I'm like the chosen one or some shit?", John said in redneck southern accent that was somewhat forced.
"Yeah pretty much dude.", Jorge replied.
"Why the hell do you know all this anyway Jorge?"
Jorge hesitated for a few moments, making sure their precious information wasn't being compromised.
"I'm with an organization that's been looking for someone like you for a very long time. We go back almost as long as the Joestars."
"The Blades?", John sarcastically replied.
"What? No. I'll tell you very soon, but first we gotta get past this muhfuggin' door.", said Jorge dismissively. "In fact I'll tell you inside, once we make sure nobody is around. Vampires or some shit, lol."
John Boyd fumbled awkwardly through some dense overgrowth with his lanky limbs towards the altar. Jorge waddled behind him.
"So what the fug am I looking at?", John said.
"I dunno man, the legend wasn't that specific. This part might have been lost over time. By the time it got to me, it was practically a nursery rhyme."
John used his 5 or 6 brain cells that were still functional after inhaling copious amounts of THC to examine engravings on the altar.
"Hey. Uh. Dude. There's some fuckin' sacrificial dagger around here somewhere?"
"What do you mean John?"
"This altar has like, symbols and shit. There's a dude with a dagger fuckin' impaling a man. That's probably what I need to cut myself on."
John fumbled aggressively with the altar, and out of frustration, just kicks the damn thing repeatedly.
"Whoa Jorge look at this!", John said as a compartment opened up revealing a ceremonial dagger.
Jorge hulks over to look at the dagger.
"What the. That dagger looks like its made of metal. Maybe iron? That's weird, Aztecs didn't know how to smelt iron. It's likely meteoric then."
John chimes in. "Dude there ain't even any fuckin' rust on it. It's in like, perfect condition."
"That's very unusual... John, let's leave the dagger alone for a second... it could be dangerou-"
As Jorge was explaining, John, sky high and completely tuned out, cuts his palm on the dagger, spilling a few droplets of blood into the altar's basin.
"JOHN WHAT THE FUCK!", exclaimed Jorge in shock.
As quickly as Jorge could scream profanities at John's brainlessness, an impossibly luminous flash of what felt like pure energy enveloped the two dimwits.